Taking Time
by Pachamama9
Summary: Hugo's one and a half now, but he still hasn't said a word. Hermione's worried that something's wrong, so Arthur comforts her. One-shot.


_A/N: Hugo is one and a half and still hasn't said a word. As a mother, Hermione worries, and Arthur comforts her._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, although I sure wish I did._

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Hugo waved his little arms at me as I held him, squealing with joy as I tossed him up into the air and caught him. I threw him up again, and he screamed in excitement before bursting into bouts of laughter. He raised his arms towards the falling snow.

My son, Ron, stood whispering with his wife in the corner of the backyard. Both of them were warmly dressed in coats, hats, and gloves, but were acting as if they were freezing, their entire bodies tense and their hands clutching their upper arms. They were worried about him; I could tell. I could slightly hear what they were saying. "What if there's something... something wrong with him?"

I halted playing with Hugo for a moment. He was only an infant, barely seventeen months old, and had yet to say a word to anyone. He babbled, of course, but none of it was intelligible. He expressed most of his feelings as cries and laughter and smiles, but his parents wanted him to say "Mama" or "Dada" or anything at all.

I rubbed Hugo's back and walked towards Ron and Hermione. Their worried whispers were beginning to bother me. "Ron?" I called out, grabbing his attention. "What's wrong?"

"Hi, Dad." He sighed, and Hermione placed a comforting hand on his back, as I was doing to Hugo. "He hasn't spoken yet." He gestured to my grandson. "He hasn't said anything."

"Yeah," I replied. This had been common knowledge to most in the family. Why was it that now he was more stressed about it than any other time?

He sighed again, the same pitiful sound, as if he'd given up. "Hermione and I are thinking of taking him to a Healer or a doctor or a therapist or someone. It's just..." He didn't know where to continue on, so Hermione picked up for him.

"I read that babies are supposed to start speaking at a year old," she said, staring at her mitten-covered hands. "Rose started at seven months. It's been too long, Arthur. Way too long. Hugo is seventeen months old now. He should have said something by now. Anything. What if I—" Her voice broke. "What if I did something wrong?" She stares blankly at her oldest child, Rose, as the little girl squealed and ran around in the snow in her periwinkle jumper.

I bit my lip, frowning. How could I explain this to these young parents? "Ron," I said. "Hermione." She looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed. I handed Hugo to her, and she clutched him tightly. "The baby will talk when he talks." Ron was surprised by my calm demeanor, but I didn't know why. I had seven (I tried not to think 'six') children. I knew just about anything they needed to know about children. "Relax." Hermione kissed Hugo's head as she took in my words. "It's not like he knows the cure for cancer, and he just isn't spitting it out. It doesn't mean anything." I knew I wasn't a professional judge of child development, but having seven children practically made him one. "I mean, whether he talks or not. It doesn't matter."

"But he—"

I wave my hand dismissively so that my son will stop speaking. "Don't worry about it, Ron. George didn't speak until he was eighteen months old, and he was fine. If Hugo hasn't had this experience yet, he will be just fine as well."

"Really?" Hermione asked. Her eyes lit up with hope. "Are you—are you sure?"

"Of course," I assure her. "Molly and I were afraid we'd dropped him on his head or something" —I saw Ron stifle a giggle— "but he was just a little late, that's all. There's nothing to worry about, honestly."

"Really?" my daughter-in-law repeated. She didn't seem to understand that this was not a big deal in any way.

"Really." I gesture out towards the piles of snow in their backyard. "Now, don't waste your son's childhood worrying about how long it is till he talks. Go play with him!"

Hermione wiped away a tear. I hadn't realized how much this had bothered her. "Thank you, Arthur."

I smile, nodding at her. "Anytime." They go off to play their chaotic games of snow and laughter, as I go back inside to sit by the fire.

Later that evening, Hugo shouted, "Mama!" while his mother was cooing to him and and she broke down into sobs.

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 _A/N: Thanks for reading!_

 _Challenges used:_

 _Fanfiction Writing Month: November [742]_

 _365 Prompts - #298 (style) first person_

 _Are You Crazy Enough To Do it Challenge - #143 (color) periwinkle_

 _If You Dare Challenge - #983 (It doesn't mean anything)_

 _Character Diversity Boot Camp - #16 (experience), Arthur Weasley_

 _Your Favorite House Boot Camp - #25 (judge)_

 _The Golden Snitch - Through The Universe - #17 (Aurora Borealis) - (feeling) freezing_

 _The Golden Snitch - Through The Universe - Sybill Trelawney - 9 inch - Write about a Gryffindor character._


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